Everybody Likes Chocolate
by nutin-but-JD
Summary: This story is one about a young girl who finds that once you find a true home and a good title, your life can be rather nice to you. I could not have written such a story without the support of Katie, Hannah, and Gates.
1. My Story

The snow blew through the night air and whistled loudly as I walked down the deserted street. It began to snow even harder, so I could hardly see ten feet away. Nobody would dare drive in this weather, and no one did. Sure there were street lights, but that would not do me any good now. I was on my way towards the small canopy-covered corner of street alley in which I resided, so I could get a good night's sleep. (Or try to, anyway.)

A shopkeeper that I knew would put milk and water out on the back step for me to have, and then return once I was done. The only thing I really owned was a small box that I had found, and in it I kept my belongings. A few quarters and a dime were carefully held in confinement, it was the only money I had.

Included in the box was one chocolate. Just one, since it had a fancy 'W' printed in the top. A while back, I was standing on a step in the middle of the day. A man passed by, but then, he passed by again! How could this be? This time he stopped, handed me a fragile box wrapped in purple, and a perfect gold bow tied upon the top. He didn't speak; he just handed it to me and walked away. I opened it, and it was a box of chocolates. The very center one, however, had that strange 'W' that I never learned to understand. I kept it with me, since it was the only time anyone ever gave me anything.

"Ouch!" I yelled as I ran into a metal gate. Inside, I saw a huge mansion-like building in which I had known about for some time. It was known to house an old, senile man who had nothing better to do than make candy. Since I lived on the streets, I heard a lot more, but it was complete nonsense. Why would an old man want to make candy anyway? If I was old, that's the last thing I would think about.

I needed shelter, and I needed it fast. The temperature was still dropping, and the visibility still poor. I did my best not to wander off the long path, so I could get up to the door without having to hike to it.

"Wow, what a big place!" I said in disbelief, "it looks so much smaller from the street!" I stared at the huge door with a big engraved 'W' standing out from the rest. I pushed, hoping for the door to give way and open for me. And to my surprise, it did!


	2. Meeting Willy Wonka

"Hello?" I asked, not expecting an answer, "i-is there anyo-one here?" My voice was causing me to studder because of the cold, not fear. "OK, I guess not." For some reason, I began to hum with glee even though I was not the least bit happy. As I looked around, I saw nothing but a huge room with a couch, a couple of chairs, a rug, a few pictures, and some books. "Hmmm… this place is pretty normal compared to what I've heard." The smell of chocolate was thick in the air. "Well, they got the chocolate part right."

I continued to hum as I walked along through the big room. I had no clue what I was humming, just a mixture of thoughtlessly composed notes that seemed to sound fairly good when put together. It was dead silent, which scared me slightly. Then, I heard a door open behind me. I wanted to hide behind something, but quickly ran over beside the door to look like I just came in.

A man then appeared in the doorway. He was dressed in a maroon-like dress jacket that went down to his knees, black pants and black shoes, and a strange top hat that seemed to complete him in a sort of way. In his hand, a cane, that it seemed he couldn't stop twirling. "Now, what have we here?" he said in a rather inquisitive voice, "a visitor! Now isn't that exiting?" I stayed perfectly silent as he seemed to be examining me. "What brings a girl like you all the way… er… to my factory?"

"Well, you see sir; I was walking along and…"

"Ah, I see."

"But sir, I didn't even get to finish my…"

"I know, but I haven't the time to listen to your little stories. Now, your parents are probably worried about you. Why don't you just run along home?"

"I cannot go home, sir."

"Well, why ever not? Did you forget where it is? Did they change the names of the streets? Did it disappear? Did…"

"No, sir, it's just that, well…"

"Yes?" he asked, rather curious now, "what happened?"

"I… I don't have one, sir."

He seemed a bit dismayed by this comment, and pondered it for a moment. He turned away and looked as though he was going to leave, but then quickly turned around as though he just came up with a great idea. "I know!" he cried, rather pleased, "you were walking down the street to your home, but then realized that it had been snowed upon so much that it had collapsed and vanished. Now, what do you say to that?" he began to do a sort of dance because he was so happy with what he had just said.

I began to laugh at him, and then he stopped. "Is something funny?"

Giggle "No, i… I was just thinking… giggle about how wrong you are, sir." giggle I found that now that I had started laughing, it was impossible to stop!

"How wrong I am? What is that supposed to mean?"

Instantly, I stopped laughing and became depressed once more, remembering that I had no home. "I haven't had a home for over a year now. I 'live' down the street next to that old Maschanti Restaurant building. I've found it quite cold during the winter months."

The dismayed look on his face grew far more intense. "Come with me," he said, and led the way.


	3. Factual Conversation

"Where are we going, sir?" I asked. A bit of fear crept up on me as we moved on.

"Don't ask so many questions, my dear young lady, the answers won't get you anywhere."

I wasn't even going to ask what that meant in reality, since I feared the answer more than I did my question. He brought me down a long hall, and into a door with an appropriate little label, 'Kitchen'.

"What the…" I said, spotting the little blue-haired man.

"Why, Mr. Wonka, you have a visitor this evening?" the little man said in a high pitched teasing voice, "you never have visitors."

"I know that, but she came here. I didn't ask her to, she just… did." I wasn't quite sure if he meant that offensively, but that's how I took it.

"Um, excuse me, but…"

"Oh my, I'm terribly sorry if I offended you. That isn't how I meant to say it."

I was instantly calmed by the way he said that, and had no choice but to forgive him for it. "No, sir, it's my mistake to take it that way."

He crouched down to the little man and whispered something in his ear. He motioned to me to sit down at a nearby table and chairs that seemed to have appeared behind me. As soon as I did, he did too.

"So, what do you eat?"

I was rather surprised that he asked me that, and I wasn't sure what to answer with. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Since you cannot buy your food, do people give it to you?"

"Well, not really. I ask people for anything, anything at all, but I never get anything in return. The only money I have I find on the sidewalk or out in the street. And, the only possessions I have I keep in here…" I pulled out the small box that I had carved the 'W' in the top of, to show it to him.

He looked at it very carefully for a while. He seemed to be thinking about something very thoroughly, but not wanting to show it. He opened his mouth to speak, but then decided not to and kept examining the small wooden box. "This is very good." He finally said.

"Good, sir?"

"Why yes! You carved my W absolutely perfectly! But how did you know to make it like this?"

I had to think a while about that comment, but then realized that the box of chocolates was none other than Wonka chocolate, which was very popular in the city. "Why thank you, sir. I'm very proud of it. Those are my most prized possessions in there."

"Of course!" he said, seeming reluctant to open it for fear of being scolded. I could tell that he was just dying to, but set it down and left it there.

"Sir, you can open it if you want to."

He gently picked it up and stared at it again. He handled it with so much care, it seemed, that I thought he was going to drop it. He slowly opened the top and revealed the purple velvet interior. The bottom of the box was lined with a few quarters, and a dime. Also in it was a golden ribbon, a silver chain, a bottle cap, and resting on top of all of it was a perfectly round chocolate with that signature W printed in the top.

"Where did you get this from?" he asked in a very non-meaningful tone, "this is one of mine."

"I know, sir. You see, this man walked by me one day, but then walked by me again! It was so strange. The second time, he stopped, handed me the box of chocolates, and walked away. He didn't speak, he just came and went. He had the most beautiful blue eyes…" at that point, I became lost in my own thoughts and memories, and became unconscious to the world around me.

"Ah, it's here."

I was startled out of my wonderful trance-like state to see a dome-covered silver plate. "My dear young lady, I think you will like this."


	4. A Strange Chocolate Treat

He removed the cover to reveal… "Um… what is it sir?" I asked, very puzzled by it.

"Why," he said with a smile, "it's chocolate!"

"Not trying to offend you or your chef sir, but I'm not sure that I would like to eat it."

He gave me a sort of suspicious look and quickly stood up from his chair. "What do you mean; you're not sure you would like to eat it?"

"Well, it's just that it looks sort of… well… strange."

"You should not judge a book by looking at only its…" he paused for a moment.

"Cover, sir."

"Thank you. You should not judge a book by its cover. Sometimes, you can be seriously mistaken."

The misshapen pile of chocolate and some other things seemed to smell good, but I was still rather uneasy. "Perhaps I will pass on this, sir, but thank you for the offer."

"Nonsense! You must have the courage inside you to try something you have never had, that's the fun of it!"

The little man brought us two spoons with that same 'W' engraved in it. I gingerly picked it up, but held on to it in fear. It seemed that Mr. Wonka had a rather large sweet tooth considering… (Wow, his teeth were white!) Spoonful after spoonful, he kept eating it as if it were his last meal he would ever have. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry," he said, now setting his spoon down, "I'm so used to eating alone."

"It really isn't a problem, sir. I don't eat much as it is."

"Yes, I figured that by how very small you are around your waist. You know, chocolate can help you with that. It really isn't very healthy to be so thin! In fact, I have never seen anyone as petite as you."

Did he just call me 'petite'?

I continued to sit there, not moving or speaking. Suddenly, he got up, walked over to me, and physically put the spoon into my hand. "There, that's better now isn't it?" As I scooped up a spoonful of the goopy concoction, I figured that I had no choice. Mr. Wonka was standing right behind me, supervising. As I brought it to my mouth, I became afraid once more. But if he can eat it, why can't I? The answer was in the question. However, I mustered up the courage, and I ate it.

Why had I waited so long!? Once I had swallowed it, I had to cover my mouth to hide the smile that had come across my face. Now there was another problem. I had to try to prevent myself from grabbing the plate and eating it with nothing but my hands! "Not bad," I said, keeping as calm as I possibly could, "not bad at all." A breeze of distress blew through him, I could see it. "Something wrong, Mr. Wonka?" (Oops, I actually called him Mr. Wonka!)

"I have never given this to anyone and had 'not bad' as a response. Something must have gone terribly wrong here! Whatever it is, it must be fixed at once!" he began to walk towards the door that led to the back part of the kitchen.

"Mr. Wonka, wait!"


	5. Wonka Loses It

I began to run after him in attempt to keep him from doing anything he may regret. He went through the back door to the kitchen, and I followed. It was a large room, filled with pots and pans, and some other randomly placed dishes. There seemed to be nobody around, except me. There was a small door labeled 'Storage' which was opened just slightly to let out the harsh-sounding voice of Wonka. "What has happened to your cooking?! You used to be able to create such chocolate as to bring any normal person to their knees! I am very disappointed in you, Chocol. I'm afraid I will have to ask you to..."

"No, sir! You can't!"

"Excuse me, young lady, but I am having a private conversation with my chef. Now as I was saying..."

I had to speak up, and I had to do it fast. "Mr. Wonka, I lied! I admit it! Whatever it was that that poor little man made was the best thing I have ever had in my entire life, and he doesn't deserve such punishment!" Wow, I had never talked so quickly or enthusiastically as that, and I scared myself just a bit.

"Oh, I see. Then, why in the world would you respond with..."

"Sir, you have no idea how sorry I am for saying that. It was a lie, and I admit that. I just didn't want you to say, 'I told you so.' Or anything like that."

"Well I did tell you so, didn't I?" He asked in a rather questionable way.

He apologized to Chocol and motioned for me to leave. Once returned to the place we had started, I sat down and began to eat the foreign chocolate treat again.

Mr. Wonka's voice seemed rather irritated, "I knew you would do that."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry sir. I didn't mean to start eating like a starved coyote, but I haven't had anything like this before, and well. it's just so good."

"Yes, I suppose you could say that." He said, throwing me a sudden smile of pride. "After all, it is my recipe."

Something in the way he said that made me nervous. Even though it was his recipe, I seemed rather uncomfortable with it. I suddenly remembered what a group of kids were talking about on the street one day.

"Hey, you know that wonka guy?"

"Yeah. He's crazy you know. Wouldn't eat anything he offered me even if it was said to include an ingredient to keep you alive forever."

"I actually ate some of his chocolate once!"

"Seriously? What happened to you?"

"Well, I can't really explain it. Sort of a mysterious feeling came over me. I felt so. flowery."

"Flowery?!"

"Yes. Since then, I have never eaten it."

"I knew this kid once. ate 10 bars of the stuff one day. After that, he left town. Just up and left, never heard from him since."

Recalling this event seemed to make me even more nervous, since I didn't want to leave the town. I liked it there. I stood up and stared at Wonka, waiting for him to say something to me.

"Mr. Wonka, I'm finished now, may I leave?"

"Leave?! Whatever gave you the impression I would let you leave so soon? Now, come along. Much to see you know."


	6. A Room With No Walls

I was reluctant to go with him at first, since I had no idea where he would take me. This place seemed mysterious enough, and the last thing I wanted was to get lost in it. It had a certain charm, however, as did the man who owned it. It was an indescribable charm, one that grabbed you in its clutches and swallowed you up before you could even think. "Yes, sir."

"Now, I have to ask you, have you ever seen a room with no walls?"

"Not that I can recall, sir. Then it wouldn't be classified as a room, would it?"

"No I suppose it wouldn't."

He said nothing else; he just cut himself off in the middle of the conversation. As we walked down a completely white hallway, I realized something. This hall had no end! You could walk in any given direction and you wouldn't run into anything. "A room with no walls." I said under my breath. 

"Mr. Wonka, how can we be going anywhere when this place never ends? There are no doors, windows, or anything! We will never get out of here!"

I received no response. Wonka was gone. He had vanished before my very eyes, even though I was watching him the whole time. I was left completely alone, in the pure white never-ending stretch of floor with no one to guide me out of it. I did my best to stay calm, but I had much trouble doing so, and thus began to yell for help. "Hello? Help me! I'm lost in here! Mr. Wonka! Help!!!" it was no use. I had to wait. If I ran in one direction, I may get even more lost. I decided to stay where I was. I sat on the floor, hoping to hear something. It was silent. Dead silent.

I had found that while I was scared, it helped to sing. As I sat, I began to make up a song to calm myself. It was the very song my mother used to sing me when I was young, before she and my father died.

Don't fear, my little child, no harm will come to you.  
As long as you believe, it's all that you can do.   
Don't let tears fall from your eyes, when in doubt, look to the sky.  
When you're lost, my little child, you will be found, just wait a while.  
If you're alone, you mustn't fear. I will be with you. I'm right here.

That song always helped me when I was afraid, and it still did. Even if I had to stay there forever, I wouldn't mind. As I repeated the song that was so dear to me, I heard him.

"That is a beautiful song, I must say."

"Oh, there you are! How did you disappear like that? I-I was following you, and you were gone."

"Where did you learn it?" he hadn't heard the question I had asked.

"My mother." I said, turning away from him.

"Something wrong?" 

"No, sir. I'm fine."

"Ok then, if you say so. Now, come! We must continue."

Somehow, we ended up in a blue-colored room. It seemed perfectly normal. Finally! Someplace that I will be able to think straight!

"Now, are you thirsty?" the randomness of his questions was beginning to become a bit irritating.

"Yes, sir. I haven't..." 

He snapped his fingers before I could even finish, and another little man appeared. "You sent for me, sir?" 

"Yes, I would like you to get us something to drink." 

"'Us' sir? Who is your little friend?"

"I gave you a direct order, Oompa 7. Are you refusing?"

"No, sir! I will get it right away."

It seemed that this man was very straight forward when his helpers did not follow his direct orders, which I found a bit harsh. I was in no hurry to say it, since I was afraid of the man myself.

"I have hot chocolate, and I have milk. Do you have a preference?"

"No, sir I will drink either one. Thank you for offering me some." 

"It's no problem."

The man returned, with two glasses on a tray. "Here you are, sir. Hot chocolate for you, and milk for the lady."

"Why thank you, Oompa 7."

"Anything for you and your guest Mr. Wonka." 

"Now, where were we?"


	7. A Little Sensitivity

As I drank my tall glass of milk, I wondered. Perhaps I will be able to overcome my fear of the place that I was at. I wasn't completely terrified of it, just a little unsure of it. It seemed somewhat dangerous in a sort of way, yet peaceful. And as I have thought many times, it was nothing below charming.

"So, when was the last time you spoke to your mother? If it's not too personal, that is."

What was I supposed to say to that? How was I to respond? I felt my heart drop into my stomach. If he wanted to know, I guess I would have to tell him. I tried, but for some reason the words wouldn't come out. My eyes swelled with tears, and as soon as I closed them, they fell. 

"Oh, my. You mustn't cry, my dear. I didn't mean to..." 

"It's not you," I managed to get out, "it really isn't."

I couldn't even look at him. I was too upset to now that he had brought up my mother. I couldn't bear to talk about her, and I never did. For 9 whole years, I held back anything that had to do with either of my parents.

"Are you going to be alright?" I hadn't heard so much sympathy and concern in anyone's voice since my parents. The thought of his sympathy made me smile in the midst of all my depression. Even though he had no clue what I was crying about, he was still concerned.

"I hope so, sir."

"You can call me Mr. Wonka, I don't really mind."

"Thank you, Mr. Wonka."

"Don't mention it." The sympathy was still there. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up. I apologize."

Even at his apology, my tears wouldn't stop. He gave me a rather troubled look. "Whatever it is, it will be OK. Trust me."

He stood up, and told me that he would bring me someplace where I could rest. 

He took me into his room, and sat down on the bed. He still looked as sad as I felt. My tears had stopped, but I was still fixed upon my depressive state. "Sir, may I ask what is wrong?" 

"Well, it's just that you are so sad, and I guess that I have a tendency to take on the feelings of other people."

"If you really want to know about my mother, sir," I said quietly, "I suppose I could tell you."

He motioned for me to sit down, and I did as he asked. I could sense how sad he was, and it made me feel even worse. "Excuse me, Mr. Wonka, but could you try to cheer up a bit? The thought of sad people makes me sad as well." I hated sad people, they made me feel lost.

"Oh, yes! Terribly sorry about that."

"This is sort of a long story, Mr. Wonka, I hope you don't mind. I will have to give you some background on my parents as well."

"No, I don't mind. I have all night."

"Alright then, I will begin."


	8. Painful Recollection

"My parents were good people. They obeyed the law, and knew right from wrong. They were straight forward, and told it how it was. That is the way that they wanted to raise their child as well. They loved me very much, and vice versa." This was hard for me, and Mr. Wonka did not miss that.

"You don't have to do this, you know." 

"I know, but I should. For 9 years I have carried this around with me, and I don't want it to go on anymore." 

"Alright, if you want to."

"My mother was very sensitive to me, and my father was sensitive to her and me both. They loved each other, and we were a very happy family. In our area, there had been cases of robberies, and we locked our door tight every night. One night, my dad went to work, and he worked late. He had forgotten his key, and my mother left the door unlocked so he could get in." I was beginning to choke on the words. "Just give me a second."

"Yes, that's fine. I can see that this is difficult for you, and rather painful. Just take your time, there's no hurry."

"Thank you, Mr. Wonka. I have never been able to talk about this to anyone, and I really appreciate it."

"Oh, you are welcome. You seem so. empty in a sort of way, and I want to do anything I can to help. People who are empty need to be listened to, and that's just what I'm doing."

A light flashed through my body, like a candle being lit. A sort of sudden joy blew past, a rather pleasant one. It only lasted a few seconds though.

"My father got home at about 10:45. When he walked in the door, my mother greeted him with a hug and a kiss, like she always did when he came home. I was at the top of the stairs, watching. I wasn't supposed to be awake, but I stayed up this time. I heard a voice I have never heard before. 'You! Get down! Get down! Give me your money! Do it now!' I was scared, and began to cry. 'It's ok baby.' My mother said. 'Get up! Put your hands in the air!' my mother ran. My father tried to jump on the guy. That was the first time I heard a gun go off. Only to shots, and both were dead," my voice was getting quieter, "dead Mr. Wonka! Murdered! And I had to watch it! I was only four, Mr. Wonka, four! I can't take it anymore, it's too painful." my voice trailed off into a fit of crying once more.

"Oh my. Oh my. I'm so sorry. I don't even know what to say." He put his arm around me. "I really am sorry. I just want you to know that I will do anything I can to help you out."

I was just as sad as that moment 9 years before. "When the police showed up, they told me that my mommy and daddy would be gone forever. They immediately put me into an orphanage, where I had to stay for 4 years. I broke out of that place and then took refuge in an open lot that was for sale. When I turned 12, I set out to live somewhere else. I then saved anything that could be used to make my house, and then moved to the place that I have been living."

"Wow. I have never heard such a sad story in all my life. I wish there was something I could do for you. Would you like to stay here for a while?"

I blushed, "why, Mr. Wonka, I couldn't. I don't want to bother you any more than I already have. I wouldn't want to impose."

"You wouldn't be bothering me, no. I would be more than happy to let you reside here. I like helping those that aren't as well-off as they should be. And believe me, such a kind and generous girl like you deserves more than what you have." He stood up and took a bow. "At your service. Anything, anything at all that I can do for you, just name it!"

He was so sensitive! How could I say that? I couldn't. It was wrong. No one in their right mind would be sensitive to me, besides my dearly beloved parents.

"Thank you so very much sir, you don't know how much I appreciate it. You're a saint."

He gave me a warm, reassuring smile, and I was somewhat taken by it. I had to smile back, and I did.

"That's better."

"So, am I to stay in here? I'm sure you don't want me to be anywhere else."

"My home is your home, er... I never got your name my dear."

"Bridget, sir."

"Well, Bridget, like I said. My home is your home. Make yourself comfortable."


	9. Where To Sleep

I was getting a bit tired now, and I needed to rest some. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, hold on." he pulled out his watch, "my, it's ten o'clock, why ever do you ask?"

"I am a bit tired, sir. I haven't slept well lately."

"Oh dear. I suppose you will need a place to sleep, considering you will be staying for a while."

"I was thinking, perhaps, the couch? The one I saw when I first arrived?"

He thought about it for a moment, and shook his head in disagreement. "I have known it to be very. quiet in there. I don't like it myself. You may sleep here," he said, and stood up from his bed once more. 

"But where will you sleep?"

"I never thought of that. I don't know, on the floor, perhaps."

"Oh no, sir. I couldn't let you do that. It's not worth it. Having to sleep on the floor just because little old me is taking up your bed. I can find somewhere else."

"No, really, you can sleep here, I don't mind. The floor is a change for me, yes. But not a bad one, perhaps."

He went into a nearby closet and fetched a blanket and a pillow. He spread them out on the floor, and adjusted them to his own content. "Thank you, Mr. Wonka," I said, sitting down upon the make-shift bed that was on the floor, "I appreciate the gesture." It had been a long time since I had used a pillow. Or even a proper blanket, really. Usually I used a piece of canvas.

I laid down on it. Even though the floor was solid, and no covering, it seemed rather soft. At first I thought that it may have been because of the fact that I hadn't slept on anything but concrete for some time, but then I realized that it was really soft. I liked it. A lot. After about 3 minutes, I found myself slowly slipping into the deepest sleep of my life.

Did I dream? Of course I did! Mostly bad dreams, about the past. However, tonight was different. I dreamt about rather pleasant things. The good things that I had. They were very few, but very good. As soon as the dream ended, another began. This time. what?! I was actually dreaming about Mr. Wonka! That couldn't be normal. He was giving me a tour of the factory. He asked me what I thought. Then he asked me if I wanted to help him run it. I accepted, and.

gasp! I had been woken up by a strange noise. I looked over to see him sleeping quite soundly in his nice little bed. What had woken me up? I sat up and examined the room. Nothing. I laid back down. There it was again! A high-pitched sort of screeching noise. I didn't want to wake him, but I had to.

"Mr. Wonka." my voice became very calm, very still, as I said that.

"My, what are you doing up so very late?"

"Sir, I was woken up by..." there it was again. "That noise."

He listened for a moment, and then sat up. "That noise," he said sweetly, "is just your imagination. Believe me, it is. It's whatever you want it to be. I'm sure the painful recollection of your parents is the source of this." He sat on the edge of his bed, and turned on the light. "Now, all you have to do is think about something else. Anything but that."

"Alright." I had it, I was thinking about something happy, not sad. The noise didn't change. I screamed. Louder than ever. So loud, my throat hurt as I held it out.

There he was. The man who killed my parents.


	10. Near Death

"Mr. Wonka! Help me!" he was gone. Just gone. He disappeared from his bed, and was nowhere to be seen. I began to cry, harder than I ever had. "Do not fear, my little child." I began to sing. It didn't help this time. I was too scared.

"Well, well. The only witness to the murders. I was thrown in prison because of you, you know. I just figured that perhaps you would like to turn me in again, huh? How 'bout your little friend here?" he had Mr. Wonka with him. "Would you like to see him die? I can make that happen." 

"What do you want from me?"

"I want your life! Your blood on my hands! I want you dead, you hear me? Dead!" he walked toward me.

"Please, sir. I'm sorry. I was only four, I didn't know any better than to tell the police."

"You are nothing but a liar to me. Ill bet you thought I was dead. Well, here I am. There is nothing you can do to stop me. No matter what, somebody's blood is going to be all over this floor. Either yours or his. You choose."

"Go ahead. Take your best shot. See if I care." I was taunting him purposely, trying to get him to back down. "Everyone has it better than me. You do, as far as I can see. Sure, you did some hard time. But you have a home! You have family and people who like to talk to you. I don't. So, kill me! Do what you came to do! Come on!" 

"If that's the way you want it," he pulled out his pistol, "that's the way you're gonna get it."

He shot. He didn't miss me, but yet I wasn't hurt. I looked to find that he had shot me right over my left ribcage. I opened my jacket to reveal my wooden box, a bullet deeply embedded in it.

"Game over." I said, now springing from the floor up into his face, taking the gun from his hand and holding it to his head myself. "You've been busted."

"Look out, Bridget! He's got a..."

I've never felt so much pain in my entire life. A knife going straight through my right bicep was not what I had in mind. I fell to the floor, crying so hard I thought I would hurt myself worse.

"You know, you aren't supposed to hurt women. In fact, I'm completely against it. Now, put down the knife."

"Ha! You think I'm gonna be intimidated by some crazy chocolate maker? Think again." He raised the knife. Somehow, I got the strength in my arm again. I pulled the golden ribbon from my box and wrapped it tightly around the man's neck. 

"He's tougher than you think."

I never knew his cane was made of metal. And never have I heard the sound of metal cracking bone, but I guess that's what you get.

"Bridget, are you OK?"

"I need to get to a hospital."


	11. At The Hospital

I had to get 17 stitches right on the spot. My arm was bandaged, padded, and wrapped some more. The murderer was caught, and this time, sent to a much higher-security prison.

"How ya doin'?"

"Well, I'm just about as good as I can be, considering that I had a 4-inch blade stuck through my arm."

"Wow. I'm so sorry that I didn't..."

"It's ok, you didn't have to anyway."

"You didn't have to defend me either. Why did you?"

"Well, I just got caught up in the moment I guess. Just one of those things, you know?"

"I see. Any word yet about leaving tonight?"

"No, they haven't said anything."

"Well, I'm gonna find out." 

He went off to talk to a doctor or something like that. I was hoping they would let me leave. I didn't like hospitals, they scared me. I was afraid. What if my arm was to get infected and I couldn't move it anymore? That would be terrible.

"The doctor said that they will have to keep you here tonight. Just to make sure everything runs smoothly." He began to walk towards the door. "Goodnight"

"Mr. Wonka, can't you stay? Please?" did I just ask him to stay? I must be more drugged up than I think.

"Stay? Why, yes, if you would want me to." 

He made himself comfortable in the chair next to my bed. He seemed rather sad, or depressed. "What's wrong?"

"I hate to see you like this. I feel really bad. I probably could have done something, but I didn't." he hung his head in disappointment.

"It's ok. I'll be alright in a month or so. I can take care of myself, its no big deal or anything. I shouldn't have to stay with you that long, so you don't have to worry."

"What do you mean? You are definitely staying until you are better. I will make sure you get everything you need."

"That's very generous, sir. Thank you." 

"You're welcome. Now, I'm rather tired, I hope you don't mind if I go back to sleep."

"No sir, that's ok." 

He made himself comfortable on the little mat placed in the corner. About 5 minutes later, he was fast asleep. The sound of his breath as he slept soothed me, and I went to sleep as well.


	12. Waking Up

Sure, I was sleeping peacefully. Just as I had a few hours earlier. But, the deepest sleep of my life was once again interrupted. "Ouch!" I cried in pain. It woke up poor Mr. Wonka, who was sleeping so angelically. I felt really bad to wake him up.

His voice was rather quiet, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Ow!!! It hurts Mr. Wonka!" I began to cry.

"Shhhh, don't worry," he said in a rather calm, gentile voice, "i'll get someone to help you."

He pressed the button beside my bed, and immediately my nurse came in. "what is it? What is wrong? What happened?" the sound of my nurse's voice was distressed, and I took that on as well.

"No, please, stay calm. If you are stressed, she will be too." It seemed that whenever Mr. Wonka spoke, everyone listened.

The nurse was practically whispering. "Try to calm down, Bridget. You are going to be ok. Just relax."

"Ow!!!" I was screaming now.

Mr. Wonka came very close. "Shhhh." I relaxed immediately.

"Her medicine has taken a strange effect. It is getting into her nervous system, causing sudden outbursts like the one she just had. I'm afraid we will have to tranquilize her for the night."

The nurse pulled out a syringe. "Mr. Wonka," my voice was weak, "don't let her."

"Isn't there any other way to handle this? I mean, do you have to go to this level?"

She ignored his comment. "Now, Bridget, you may feel a little bit of pressure here..."

"Wait!" his voice was quick, "may i?"

"I'm sorry sir, but you are not a professional. I'll have to ask you to step away."

"No, please, I beg you. Just let me do it, it may calm her more. She doesn't know you."

She handed him the needle. "I'm scared, sir, I don't like needles. They hurt me."

"Now, now, you mustn't worry about pain. It won't hurt at all. Just relax, and it will be ok."

"Actually, those injections are quite a bit painful when..."

He darted a stern look at her. "Don't listen to her. Now, close your eyes." I did as he said. "I'm not going to tell you when I do it."

I felt him gently place a bandage upon my neck. "Goodnight, Mr. Wo..." I was asleep.


	13. Breakfast Time

My eyes were open, yet I still felt like I was asleep. "She's awake."

"Not mentally awake, sir. Just physically. It will take a while for her to recuperate from that injection. Perhaps a half-hour or so."

As I laid there for about 30 minutes, I felt myself slowly coming into consciousness. It was like waking up, but slowly. Once I was conscious again, he came over to my bed. "How are you feeling? Any better?"

"Not really, sir. I'm still in pain, but I will survive. I can leave today, right?"

"That's what they have been saying. Let's hope they meant it."

"Where is it?" I suddenly remembered something.

"It's right here. I've been holding onto it for you. Hope you don't mind." He pulled my box out from his inner pocket, where I always kept it.

"Thank you, now I know it is safe."

He smiled at me, and blushed at the same time. I made him blush! That made me smile. Why was I acting like this? It wasn't like me to smile like that without a good reason. I seldom smiled at all, save for the past day. I caught a glimpse of his chocolate-brown eyes. They seemed familiar.

"Breakfast is here!" it was my nurse. "Hope you don't mind Jell-o. Just about all we have, you see. Sorry about that." She left the room without another word.

I was hungry, yes I was. I wanted to eat. There was a problem though. I was right-handed, and ate with the utensil in my right hand. I wasn't able to do that though. I picked up the spoon with my left hand, and tried to scoop up a glob of the red jiggly dessert. My left arm was weak, and I dropped it into the bowl.

My eyes swelled with tears. "I'm so hungry," I forced out.

He came over to me and sat there for a moment. He wanted to help me, I could see that. But he was afraid to.

"Here, you can put this over there," I said, pushing the tray from myself, "it's not of use to me."

He began to take the tray away, but set it back down. "Would you like some help?" That deep look of concern was there again.

"You don't have to. I'll be alright. Like I told you before, I don't eat much anyway."

"Here, let me help you, it isn't a problem."

I began to giggle at his sweetness. Giggling turned to laughter. I couldn't stop! I kept laughing! He just sat there, and acted like he understood what was happening. "Yes, that's it, let it out. Don't hold it in anymore." I was laughing so hard it began to hurt. He gently gave me a hug, "It's alright."


	14. Going Home

That was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me. It was the first time, since my childhood, that I had to be spoon fed by someone besides myself. He was a very nice man to do that for me, but why?

"You are very kind, Mr. Wonka."

"I told you I would do anything to help, and I'm not backing down. I owe you anyway; you took four inches of metal through your arm for me."

"I would have done it for anybody. I wanted to teach that man a lesson."

He seemed offended by that, as if I had said something bad about him. "What?"

"Nothing. Are you still hungry?" He was avoiding it. I caught a glimpse of his eyes again. Why did they look so familiar? I had seen them someplace before…

The nurse came in, picked up my tray, and left with it. A moment later, she returned. "Here are your clothes. You are free to leave now. Be out of here by eleven o'clock, need to clean up you know."

"I'll be right back; I need to put these back on."

I went and got dressed, and once I came out, he was waiting for me. I was tired, and wanted to leave. He could sense that. "Come on, let's go home."

"Home?" I hadn't heard that in so long.

"Yeah."

I actually had a home.


	15. Walking Home

I checked out of the hospital. I then realized something. Mr. Wonka didn't own a car! "Are we walking?"

"Do you mind?"

"It's very cold out here, and I thought that I should keep my arm warm."

"Oh, yes. I'm sure that that would be a wise choice."

He paused for a moment. "Here." He started to take his jacket off.

"No, no, please, it's ok. You don't have to do that." He wasn't listening. "No!" my tone caught his attention. He buttoned his jacket again, all the while looking like a wounded puppy. I felt really bad. It was a known fact that the injection I received was liable to make one emotional. A tear streamed down my face. "I'm sorry."

"Shhh, don't cry, its ok." I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry; we'll be home in no time. Come on, let's go."

It was about 5 minutes later, and we were there. How had we gotten there so quickly? Once I walked in the door, I was warmed. It was very cold, and heat felt really nice.

"Are you tired?"

"Kind of, yes."

I looked around. In the middle of the floor was a coat rack with a maroon jacket hung on it. Mr. Wonka was gone, and the jacket wasn't his. I went over to it and picked it up. It was almost identical to his, only the style seemed like that of a girl's. Embroidered in the top left was an 'MW'. The 'W' was the same, but the 'M' was different. I put it on, and it fit perfectly.

"I see you have found your get well present."


	16. My New Title

"Get well present?"

"Yes, the oompa loompas made it for you once they heard what happened."

"But that was just last night."

"Oompa loompas are known for their efficiency with work and creativity. They work very fast."

"I guess so."

I ran my hand over the embroidered MW. "What does this stand for?"

"I'm not really sure. You'll have to ask one of the oompa loompas, they're the ones who made it."

"Where will I find one?" he gave me a look that made me feel like I had asked a really stupid question. He snapped his fingers and instantly one of the little blue-haired men came flying in and stood before us.

"I'll be right back, wait here and find out what that means."

"Yes, sir."

I looked down at the little man who was watching Mr. Wonka walk away. I pointed to the MW. "What does this stand for?" I asked, rather anxious.

"Well, it means…"

"Miss Wonka!!" another voice chimed in. it was Mr. Wonka this time. "Sorry, I couldn't take it anymore."

"Whoa, wait a minute here. I can't accept this title." I tried to unbutton it, but I couldn't. The buttons seemed to be done so tightly, they would not come undone.

"You won't get it off. The title is yours. I have waited a long time for this, you know. Congratulations, you have been crowned Miss Wonka."

I didn't know what to say or do. Should I accept it, or try to tell him off? I liked having a title, though. I actually was somebody. I wasn't going to let that pass me by.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Wonka." I was overflowing with happiness. I went over to him and planned on giving him a hug, but then caught myself. "Wait, I thought I was only staying until my arm was better."

"Oh, no. you will be staying much longer." He directed me through a door. "Because of your extended stay, you need a place to sleep. Miss Wonka, welcome to your new room."


	17. Somewhat Depressed

Have I ever fainted? Not that I can recall. But, like they say, there's a first time for everything. For a few seconds, I was overcome with an overwhelming happiness. The next I knew, I was in bed, coming out of a deep sleep.

"It's only a bedroom."

I looked around at all the dressings the room was filled with. Anything I had ever wanted was in that room. My dreams were small, but plenty. How had he known I wanted all of these things? I needed to know.

"Mr. Wonka, how did you know?" I started to cry. I seemed to do that a lot in his presence, mostly because I felt inferior to him.

"I have my ways. When you choose a Miss Wonka, you need to know a bit about her."

"But I never told you any of this, I didn't even hint." I frantically began to pat my jacket. "My box! I left it at the hospital! I have to go back and get it!"

"Maybe you should call first." He picked up the phone and dialed it hastily. He waited minute, then began to speak. "Hello, has room 129 been cleaned out yet? Really. Was anything found? Oh, I see. Thank you. Bye."

"What did they say?"

"Anything they find left behind in the rooms… gets thrown away. I'm really sorry."

Even though I had received a lot from him, I felt empty. My life was stored in that box. The only things I had to show for my entire life.

"I'm really sorry this happened. If there is anything I can do…"

"May I be left alone for a while? I need to sort some things out."

"Sure. I'll be back in an hour or so, if that's ok. Don't worry, I'll find a way to help."

"I'm just going to go to bed, so if you wouldn't mind…"

"Sure. Ill leave you alone. Goodnight."


	18. Looking For Wonka

As I sat there, I wondered. How could I have been so careless as to leave it there? Maybe they kept it! Maybe they didn't throw it away because it was full of items. Another one of my mother's songs entered my mind.

What is lost will soon be found.

Do not fret, your gifts abound.

Just you wait, and you will see.

For the things most precious are your memories.

I found myself singing louder.

Don't be afraid, as the days go by.

Let your wings spread, jump, and fly.

Let the wind remove your sorrow, and head for the sky.

Because as long as you have memories, you never have to say goodbye

Suddenly, I felt the urge to talk to Mr. Wonka. I didn't know what about, but I just wanted to talk to him. Where was he? I didn't know, but I was going to find him. By myself.

I went out the door, and started down the hallway. I had to keep feeling the walls to make sure they were there, just in case. I heard humming. Not the gentile humming of Mr. Wonka, but a high-pitched one. An oompa loompa's. He came around the corner. "Hello, Miss Wonka," he bowed as he spoke, "how may I help you?"

I became flustered at his bow. "Have you seen Mr. Wonka? I would like to speak with him."

"Mr. Wonka is out. He told me not to say where he went. It's strictly confidential. Terribly sorry Miss Wonka. I had better get back to work."

I kept walking, until I was outside his bedroom door. I went in, but it was empty. I returned to my room. My room? How had I gotten there by myself? I felt so alone. I had nothing to remind me of the good things that were. No one to talk to. I went over to my closet and opened the doors. Inside I found a complete wardrobe almost identical to his. He must take this Miss Wonka thing very seriously. I removed the full outfit and examined it. "I wonder if it fits…" I put it all on, down to the socks and jewelry. It was all so perfect and I loved it. Wait, I couldn't love it! Even though it fit so well and looked so good, I didn't deserve the title.

Since I was tired, I got ready for bed. In my closet I also found a variety of nightgowns, in many different colors and styles. Once I chose the baby blue one, I was ready for bed. I lay down on my bed. "Oh, I have always wanted a bed with satin sheets!" I thought about the day I received the box of chocolates, and fell asleep.


	19. Mr Wonka's Crush

The next morning, I was woken up by the sound of someone coming into my room. I didn't move, just played like I was sleeping. Obviously that wasn't a good idea.

"I know you're sleeping. I can tell."

I stayed still. I just wanted to play a little game with him for a while.

"Come on, get up…"

"Mmmm… I don't want to," I mumbled.

His presence became stronger as he came closer to me. I had my eyes closed, but I could sense something. "Don't touch me." I couldn't sense it anymore.

"Well then! I shall go and eat breakfast by myself… it will all be for me."

"What's for breakfast?" I was rather exited.

"You won't know unless you get up…" Wow he was good.

Wait, I was still in my nightgown, I couldn't get out of bed yet! But I wanted chocolate… oh well, what is the worst that could happen? Not like he would comment or anything right? I pulled the blanket off of myself and sat on the edge of the bed. "My hair!" I screamed. "It's straight! … And so soft…"

"Of course it is, it's supposed to be." He became rather tense, I could see it. I went over to the closet again, and got out my wardrobe. He was watching me the whole time. I didn't like that, it made me uncomfortable. I turned around and went over to him. I picked up something imaginary off the floor. "I think you dropped these."

"What are 'they'?"

"They're your eyes, Mr. Wonka. Now put them back into your head where they belong."

I went into the bathroom and got changed. I had a complete set of hairbrushes, makeup, and anything else I needed. This was amazing! I got completely ready and went back out.

"Alright, breakfast is on."

He just stood there, staring at me. "Stop it! I'm Miss Wonka, not Mrs.!" Did I just say that?

"What is that supposed to mean?" uh oh, I upset him. I had to cover for that. He gave me the same look, only stronger. I started to giggle. "Stop it!" he was waiting for me to smack him wasn't he? I wanted to leave the room, but I would have to pass by him. I didn't want to! I did though, and I walked through the door. I was quickly accompanied by him.

"Now, where did you…" I felt something on my head.

"Here, you will need this too."

It was a hat and a cane. Not completely identical to his, because mine were more precise. The cane was almost the same, only the top was transparent pink and blue.

We entered the kitchen where Chocol was waiting for us. "It appears that Miss Wonka is a bit… flustered. May I ask why?"

"Chocol, may I speak with you privately?"

"Yes of course."

We went into the back room. "I'm afraid that Mr. Wonka has a certain… thing for me Chocol. It's beginning to scare me."

"What would make you say such a thing?"

"Watch him once, and you will see. He stares at me… in such a… delightful, I mean, unusual way." We went back out. He had that look on his face.

"You're right," Chocol whispered, "I've never seen him do this before. It seems that Mr. Wonka has a thing for you. Be careful."

Careful? Why would I have to be careful? It's not like it's dangerous.


	20. Wonka Shows His Temper

As I went back over to the table, I began to get rather nervous. Why had Chocol told me to be careful? I was in no hurry to find out. I sat down across from him, as far away as the table would allow. He gave me a certain look… "Mr. Wonka!" I screamed.

"What? What did I do?"

I ran to the other end of the room. "I know who you are!"

"Who I am? What do you mean?"

"I… I know you."

He gave me a rather confused look. "I sure hope you know me."

"That's not what I mean!" I was realizing a lot of things all at once, and it became too much for me. His eyes… I knew it. They were the same. As he walked over to me I couldn't stop looking into them and remembering that day about a year before. It was crystal clear to me now. "You're… you're him."

"Him? Who?"

I looked at his jacket, the W. I didn't know what to do. Was I to run away? Be happy? Be sad? I didn't know. "You're… the nicest man on earth." That is what I always called him, since I didn't know who it was.

"Why thank you." He didn't understand.

"No, I mean… that man. The one who gave me the chocolates." I was still in shock.

"Oh, that 'him'. Why yes, I thought you already knew."

"How would I know? You played it so well like you didn't know what I was talking about. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I thought that was the reason for your coming here. I thought you came to thank me or something. How was I supposed to know?"

"Oh wow. I have been with you this whole time, and I never noticed. How could I be so…"

"Don't even think about it. I will not allow you to accuse yourself of stupidity like that. Actually, I forbid it." His voice seemed very stern, very strict.

That scared me, so I whispered. "I'm sorry." He sensed that he had scared me.

"I apologize for that tone I just used. I didn't mean to scare you."

I was still whispering. "It's ok."

"So, do you really think that I have 'the most beautiful brown eyes'?"

Uh oh, he had me there. I now wished I wouldn't have said that earlier. "Well… um…" I didn't know what to say.

"I thought so." His eyes twinkled in the light of the room. They were so pretty though! I couldn't lie to him; I had to tell him they were.

"Yes, I suppose they are." This remark surprised him.

"I don't think they're really that nice. I hate them, actually. Brown is such a dull color, unlike blue…" he looked directly into my blue eyes. He was doing it again! I didn't like that. Or did i? I looked away from him, but I still sensed his stare.

"I don't like my eyes. They are such an off color. In between blue and green, and rather dull. They annoy me."

"How can you say that!? Even though they are dark, they can still be pretty. Look at what you said about mine. Mine are dark."

I began to walk across the room toward the door. "Can we just forget about that comment?" I said as I walked past him. "Thank you."

"You know, you seem to have taken up a bit of an attitude haven't you?" I stopped dead in my tracks and stood perfectly still. "I'm not sure I like it." I had gotten in too deep.

I turned around, trying to maintain myself. I couldn't cry now, he would find delight in the fact that he was right. I didn't know what to say. I was about to say something like, 'so have you,' but decided not to. "I know. I don't like it either. I hate myself for doing so." I sat down on the floor and began to cry. "I'm so sorry. I have been so rude to you, and look at what you have done for me."

It wasn't helping. "Can you make yourself cry whenever you want to? It sure seems that way. You cry to get my attention, don't you? I never should have given you that title. I want all of that back by tonight. Your room will be cleaned out and used as something else. If you don't mind, I would like you to be gone by… 9:00 tonight."

"But sir, I'm really sorry!"

"Saying so doesn't matter, its feeling that way that counts."


	21. Leaving

"And by the way, here's your stupid box!" He threw it on the floor next to me, and then walked out the door.

"I'm so sorry," I kept saying.

Chocol walked over to me. "Miss Wonka, are you really leaving?"

"Yes, Chocol. And you don't have to call me that anymore, actually, I'm sure Mr. Wonka prefers you don't."

"You're still Miss Wonka to me."

"Well, I don't think that's appropriate anymore."

"Where will you go? You have nowhere to go do you?"

"Right back to where I came from in the first place. I'll be alright."

"Are you still friends?"

"I don't think we ever were."

I went back to my room. The clock read 5:00 PM, only 4 hours until I had to be out. I got my old clothes and put them on. I put the other ones neatly on my bed, and the jewelry back in the box. I washed my face to remove any trace of the makeup I had on, and washed my hair so it was wavy again. By the time I had gotten completely dressed down, it was 7:30. I still had to announce my resignation.

I went into the main area where almost all the oompas worked. "I have an announcement to make!" when I spoke, they listened. They stared at me in my normal clothes, looking just as I had before. "I am resigning. I will never forget you, and I will miss both you, and this place itself." An oompa walked over to me.

"Why are you resigning? What happened?"

I crouched down to him. "I'm being fired. Mr. Wonka told me to leave. I wouldn't bother him if I were you."

"Strike!" someone yelled. The voice was accompanied by many others. Pretty soon, every oompa loompa in the factory was chanting.

I quickly returned to my room. I picked my hat up off of the bed and held it close to me, crying so hard I couldn't breathe. I was hated by him, and probably the oompas. He would probably tell them lots of bad things about me. I heard someone enter.

"Miss Wonka?"

"What is it, Chocol?"

"I wanted to give you this. I hope you like it."

I opened the small box and inside was a heart-shaped chocolate.

"Thank you, I appreciate it."

"Wait, that's not all. All of us have a gift for you." The door opened, and 2 oompa loompas were carrying a large plaque. It read, 'To Miss Wonka, for all of the things you have done for us. Signed, the oompa loompas and .' There was an empty metal plate where Mr. Wonka's signature was supposed to be.

"Thank you. Oh my, it's nine. I have to go now." I was crying again.

I walked out and got to the front door and turned around. He was standing across the room, watching me. I had to let him know how upset I was. "I hate you! Do you hear me? I hate you! I thought you were my friend, but you played me. You set me up so I could fall." I unwrapped my arm, and the bandage was full of blood. "Here, something to remember me by. The blood I shed for you, and for what? For you to kick me out. You know how much pain I went through? 17 stitches Mr. Wonka! I really hate you for this!" I opened the door and walked out.


	22. Take Me Home!

I began to walk down the path when I heard the door behind me. My tears were unstoppable now. I suddenly dropped down to my knees and looked up to the sky. "Mom, if you can hear me, I really need you right now. Please, I beg you. I need comfort right now, and you are the only one who can give it to me. Life is really hard for me right now, and I need guidance. Take me home! I want to come home! Let me come home…" I dropped to the ground in sorrow.

My arm began to hurt in excruciating pain and I screamed. It felt really hot, and it burned me. It was bleeding, more than it should. "Thank you."

"Bridget? Um, I…"

"Shut up and leave me alone! I don't need you! I don't need anyone! I just want to go home, and that's where I'm going. Just give me some time, my arm will clot and my heart won't be able to take it. Let me go, I will be happy that way."

"Please, don't say that."

"What do you care? Oh I'm sorry, do I have too much of an attitude for you? Too bad! This is the last place I want to be, and you're the last one I want to see."

"I'm not going to watch you die."

"Then go inside."

He knelt next to me. I could see tears in his eyes. "I beg you, forgive me. I'm so sorry I did this to you."

"Saying it doesn't matter, it's feeling it that counts." I got up and ran away.

I went back to the place that I used to live. I sat down, and held my arm. The cold did this to it, since it wasn't bandaged. I had a spare one, and I wrapped my arm in it.

I heard my mother's voice. "Honey, go back. He doesn't mean any harm to you, he wants to help. He cares about you; he just has a different way of showing it. You can do it, you can go back."

"But I don't want to, he hates me!"

"No, he really doesn't. He's crying right now, believe me. He has never cried before." The voice faded. I got up and began walking back.

I opened the door to see him sitting on the couch, actually crying. "I can't believe she's gone…" he wanted me to come back.

"Mr. Wonka, my mother told me to come back so I did."

He got up and ran over to me. Once he had almost got himself together, he took me in his arms and said, "I'm so sorry, you don't even know."

"Don't cry, sir. It's going to be fine, I'm coming back. Just act like I never left. I can't stay away from this place; it's been too good to me."


	23. Signing The Contract

"Welcome back, Miss Wonka."

I went back into my room and put my outfit back on that I had taken off earlier.

He came in, and said, "Wow, I can't believe that I made this leave. You are a perfect Miss Wonka, I should have seen that."

"Thank you, I'm flattered."

"Come along, I have something to show you."

He took me through a series of halls that I hadn't seen before. We went into a room that seemed like a conference room.

"Now, I need to discuss some things with you." He pulled out a document.

"What is that?"

"It's a special document that entitles you to half of everything in this factory. Now, read this paragraph, and respond to it."

I read it, but I didn't understand all of the business terms it had in it. "I'm sorry sir, I don't understand it."

"Neither do I!" I threw it across the room, and pulled out a pale purple paper with one paragraph on it. "Here, read this."

It read,

'This document entitles you to half of everything in the factory. Consider yourself lucky, Willy Wonka is usually not so generous. If you want half of everything that he has, then read on. If you don't, rip this in half and discard it. This means that you will own half of the oompa loompas. No, just kidding. It means that you can boss them around too, just like Willy Wonka does. If you accept this offer, sign here. '

"Do you have a pen?"

He smiled at me, and pulled a pen out of his hat. "Here you go, sign your real name."

"Thank you, sir." I signed the paper.

From that day forward, I ran half of everything, and made friends with all of the oompa loompas. Mr. Wonka and I became very close friends, and he never looked at me with that weird look again. The only thing he really did that displayed his care for me was that every Monday morning, I woke up to a box of chocolates and a red rose in a blown glass vase. My plaque was hung up in the hallway outside my bedroom, with Mr. Wonka's signature now deeply engraved in the metal plate.

My arm made a full recovery, after some painful weeks of physical therapy. During that time, I was treated with special care, by Mr. Wonka.

I was taught how to make chocolate and other candies by Chocol, who became a really good friend of mine. Every once in a while, he would make me a surprise treat he had just thought up. Basically, I was his guinea pig.

And everyone lived happily ever after. (Sorry, stupid ending let me try again.)

And I became the most known girl in the entire city, even the state.


End file.
